2013.07.10 - A FATEful Meeting
One of the many drawbacks to being a princess of a secret magical realm is that currency doesn't translate. Five hours after setting off on her heroic journey, Princess Amethyst had returned to her kingdom's capital city of Nilaa to ask her mother for some spending money. She snuck in the back to avoid being seen by the servants. It was embarrassing enough to drag out the "Mom, I'm going out. Can I have some money?" line. It's funny how wearing crowns can change familiar situations. And so the valiant Amaya Amethyst, under the guise of Amy Wilson, found a large pawn shop that looked like it could buy a gold bar or two. She keeps her head down as she walks in, irrationally wary of being recognized. The chime of the cheap electronic bell above the door echoes bizarrely. That doesn't set off her danger sense. The lack of air conditioning, the absence of muzak playing over tinny speakers, that's weird. The floor is marble, too. It looks too nice. Amethyst sharply raises her gaze, dropping her brown paper bag full of fairy gold. Her instincts have clenched her fists. A moment later, her training places a ghostly purple sword in her hand, glittering in the light. Her baggy leather jacket and torn up jeans disappear in a flash, replaced by purple silks. Dressing the part is important. "What the hell?" She's still learning to talk the part, however. The grand entry hall is one of the less visually troubling areas of the Tower, though in this case it seems to stretch on ad infinatum, which might be a bit to take in. The marble floors, the ornate Egyptian columns, the infinitely intricate carvings on the walls, and the vaulted ceilings that stretch up into the unknowable cosmos all speak, of course, to some vision of opulence, but far more than that they announce clearly: magic. Just as this is being taken in, a deep voice with all the resonance of a grand Cathedral's bell sounds from the air around Amaya. "Your weapon will not be needed, Daughter of Faërie--Child of Order--Princess of the Gemworld. You are welcome here, on the threshold of FATE." And, as the final word sounds, a light in the shape of a great golden ankh flares nearby. When it fades, the glittering form of Doctor Fate stands nearby, hands extended in a gesture of hospitality. Amethyst holds her magical blade before herself for a tense moment, expecting further strangeness to occur immediately. As she's left alone, the princess spares a glance over her shoulder. No door. "Magic," she mutters. Amethyst can deal with magic. She can deal with assassins and demons and other things, too, which is why a conjured shield on her left arm joins her growing arsenal. She inches further into the hall. Despite the perceived threat, the majesty of this place is difficult for the princess to ignore. Her gaze drifts upward, drawn into the mysterious void. Her lips part slightly and she exhales. "-!?" Princess Amethyst raises her sword anew, regaining her warrior's stance more quickly than she is able to understand what was said to her. She remains poised to strike, heedless of the titles heaped upon her. Amethyst has been called many things in the past year and she's decided that it's best to just roll with it. "Thanks. I think I'll keep it handy, all the same." The princess makes no move save pointing her blade toward the newcomer. Her brow furrows as she studies the man. "Wait. You mean Doctor Fate, not just..." Amethyst's shoulders slump. She laughs half-heartedly. "You're Doctor Fate, not talking about fate. I'm sorry, it's been a weird year..." The smile fades from her face. "You're Doctor Fate," she repeats. Lightly pressing one hand to his abdomen, Fate inclines his helmeted head and offers a polite bow of greeting. "I am called Doctor Fate, indeed, and Doctor Fate is merely a name, a title, bestowed upon the current avatar of Nabu the Wise, a Lord of Order. But we will come to that soon enough--for now, it may be simplest to know me by my conventional moniker, 'Fate.'" Rising, the doctor gestures to their surroundings. "As I said, you are welcome at my doorway. This is the Tower of Fate, a realm of Nabu to provide sanctuary and shelter to his avatar, as well as hospitality and aid to his allies. You, princess, are counted amongst Nabu's allies, whether you know it or not. As such, I have brought you here to offer you greeting, welcome, and perhaps a few of that rare commodity: answers." With a subtle gesture from Amethyst, the magical armaments fade away. She awkwardly straightens her posture, unable to match the doctor's grace and feeling outmatched. 'Just call him Fate,' she thinks. This is traveling in high circles, even if she cared very little about Dr. Fate in her preteen days of superhero obsession. He was old and wore a helmet. Not very evocative for that particular audience. Amethyst steps forward, her boots making no sound on the marble floor. Mentally, she puts the explanation of Nabu aside. That can be puzzled over later. "Answers? Doc... I mean, Fate, that's great!" She smiles, relief in her voice and expression. "With your help, I'm sure we can find Eclipso and destroy him completely." Fate = magic. That much she remembers. "Please, come with me," Doctor Fate says, turning to lead the way along the vast entry hall. In a blatant distortion of spatial logic, he soon reaches a set of double doors, which he casts open, and then shows Amethyst into a posh, comfortably furnished sitting room that looks like it might have been decorated to embody old-world culture some time in the mid to late Twentieth Century. The walls are wood-paneled, the floor richly carpeted, and the cushioned mahogany armchairs stand near a vast marble fireplace. Above it, a gleaming mirror reflects the infinity of space instead of the room itself. Fate stops a short distance in, gesturing to an armchair. "Please, be at ease here. Take your ease and comfort, for we are kin of a sort, as you will learn." Settling into an armchair, the ancient helmeted hero steeples his fingers. "I now ask two questions before we begin. First, do you prefer to deal with me as I am, or shall I assume my human face? Second, please tell me what you know of the true history of the Gemworld." Amethyst frowns almost imperceptibly as Doctor Fate turns to mundanely walk away. She had expected teleportation, or a portal, or something appropriately arcane. In following him, the princess's steps become more and more uneven as she struggles to perceive the bizarre course they're taking through this endless hall. The more she focuses, the more she feels like she wants to fall forward. Amethyst shuts her eyes, placing a hand on her forehead. The feeling leaves instantly. This time, when she attempts to continue, the princess pays no attention to her surroundings and suffers not one bit for it. Magic. While Amethyst eagerly takes in the room before her after following Fate inside, she spends most of her time staring at the mirror. Rich furnishings are surprisingly easy to become accustomed to. Magical artifacts are another thing. She lingers near the fireplace on her brief walking tour of the room, turning to face the seated Fate as he takes up the conversation again. "Your human face?" Amethyst badly surpresses her interest with an overly neutral expression. "Please. Would you mind?" Realizing her lack of acting talent, she quickly launches into a recitation of what she knows in a bid to distract her host. It is a dry list of dates and events having to deal with the noble houses, especially House Amethyst. As Amethyst winds down in her recitation, Doctor Fate reaches up and lightly lifts the helmet from his head. Once he does so, all the vestments of Fate evaporate from him like mist, leaving in his place an old man in fine, if dated, clothing. The Helmet floats from his hand, taking up a position on a pedestal nearby, and then the man turns, smiling, back to Amethyst. When he speaks, his voice has lost some of that mystical resonance, yet it is still deep and quite powerful, belying his apparently aged, frail form. "In this guise, I am called Kent Nelson. I was once a mortal man, who was born and died on the Earth. I exist now solely as the Avatar of Nabu, that I may embody Fate when called to do so." Settling back into his chair, Nelson languidly raises a hand to gesture at the mirror, giving just a little flourish of his fingertips, and the artifact begins to shimmer, the image shifting, until a cloud's eye view of the Gemworld swirls into focus through the mists. "The Gemworld, sometimes called the land of Faërie, borders many realms of both Dreaming and Waking, yet your knowledge of its origin is only partly correct. It was indeed Citrina who found it--and, in fact, created it--though do not mistake the birth of Gemworld for the birth of Faërie. The realms are one and they are not, as with many worlds under the power of the Dream." Pausing for a moment, Kent gestures again, and the mirror now shows a great, towering fortress of stone that may look familiar to Amaya. "Gemworld was the Sorceress Citrina's romantic attempt at preserving a certain sort of reality, a glimpse of how the world might be. This world was her fairy tale, and yet it was nothing so simple. Warring factions and enemies were a constant threat to your parents--tell me, what do you know of your parents? That, in truth, comes to the heart of my tale." The cadence of Amethyst's words falters as she watches Fate move for his helmet. She overcorrects to compensate, finishing her history too quickly. The princess is able to fully appreciate the sight of the floating helmet without splitting her attention. As it settles, she looks back to Fate, unabashedly studying his face and clothes. She can't help but smile, for some reason. "Hi, Mr. Nelson." She had a science teacher named Mr. Nelson for a few months, once. Then again, she's had a lot of teachers. The revelation of Kent Nelson's death sobers Amethyst. Her mouth opens but she apparently thinks better of saying something, closing it and walking briskly to a nearby armchair. She has an excellent view of the mirror and is further entranced by its magics. Amethyst reaches out, almost able to feel Gemworld through the glass. It has been difficult to tell what is her imagination and what is magical insight, these days. "Citrina created it?" Amethyst says, absently. "I wonder why Citrine is considered a minor house." "That's in Nilaa," she interjects as the castle appears. She quiets so her host can continue and takes a moment longer to respond. "My mother was Lady Amethyst when she married my father, who was Lord Turquoise. They eloped. My mother was supposed to marry a prince of House Diamond, who's now Lord Diamond." Amethyst sets her jaw, staring almost challengingly at Kent before continuing. "My dad died sending me and my mom to Earth when my aunt and other houses attacked for breaking the marriage pact." "And yet," Kent says with a gentle smile, "there is more. Your father was not simply Lord Turquoise, you see." Gesturing to himself, the old an explains, "I am Kent Nelson. Yet, when I don the Helmet of Fate, I become an extension of Nabu the Wise. Nabu is one of the Lords of Order, and his link to the physical universe is the Helmet. One who wears the helmet and is accepted by it becomes, in essence, Nabu's embodiment in this world." Kent once more looks to the mirror, and the image now shifts to a (likely quite familiar) jewel that once hung around the neck of Lord Turquoise. "This is an ancient artifact of great power--you may recognize it as having belonged to your father." Amethyst turns to look up at the mirror again. She is silent for a long time, longer than just a pause in conversation. "It looks familiar," she admits. "I think I've seen my father wearing it in some paintings. It's not the amulet his body is wearing, though." The princess does not explain how she came to know what her dead father is currently wearing. "It would not be," Kent says quietly. "This amulet is like Nabu's helmet in many ways: it is the Gem of Pantagones, who was himself a great Lord of Order." Pausing to let that sink in, Kent goes on to say what he imagines Ametyhst is already working out for herself. "When Lord Turquoise wore and was accepted by the Gem, he became the avatar of Pantagones. Thus, while Lord Turquoise was in many senses your father, you had another father as well who shared his body. Pantagones had come to love your mother, you see, and so needed the body of a physical being in order to act on his feelings." Kent gives that a moment more to stand, and then he adds the inevitable. "You were the product of their love--a unique love, as Lords of Order are not known to ever love or procreate. Yet your father defied this and you were born in spite of the most ancient tradition. You are, in many ways, profoundly special--you are the first Lord of Order to be truly born in the manner of a mortal." It is about the mention of another father that Amethyst's attention snaps back to Dr. Nelson. She seems dangerous as she listens to him, tensed and coiled just like she was in the hallway earlier. Her breathing becomes hard enough to be noticeable, but her breaths are still evenly measured. Her hands have slid from her lap to her sides, clenched tight. "Does my mother know this?" she asks. "Oh, yes," Kent says, his tone still gentle. "She knew quite well. She returned his love--there was no deception between them." He is silent for a moment, composed and nearly as expressionless as the helmet he often wears. Finally, he asks quietly, "Is this difficult for you to hear?" Amethyst's gaze is unfocused. She is more kin to Fate's scrying mirror at the moment than she is to him. Her mind is on her mother, Lady Graciel, who even now sits upon the throne of House Amethyst as she did before Amaya was born. Lady Graciel, who didn't tell her daughter that their names weren't Grace and Amy, that there was a life beyond living in a mobile home and moving too often to have friends, that her father was... what? The princess raises her chin, looking upward. She eases her hands up once she realizes how badly she is digging her fingernails into her palms. 'It's not like he got this wrong,' she thinks. 'It's Doctor Fate.' Amethyst smiles wanly. 'Just Fate.' "It really shouldn't be," she says. "Everything that's happened to me this year has been like this. But... you're telling me," Amethyst stops suddenly, lowering her head and hunching over so she can thread her fingers through her golden hair. "You're telling me what? My dad was some kind of magical spirit and I'm one too?" She shifts, parting her hair so she can look at Dr. Nelson while maintaining her horrible posture. Her cheeks are flushed, but she's still trying to smile. "I've got my sword. I guess it shouldn't surprise me that my dad's Zeus." Kent is silent for several moments before he allows himself a quiet chuckle. "Zeus might not care for you to say so. He is, after all, father of more than enough children already. As for your father, he was guilty only of love. He had a tender heart for a Lord of Order, and yet he had also courage equal to his desire." Gesturing once more to the mirror, Kent reconjures the image of Gemworld itself. "You are a mystic being, yes. It will no doubt be many long years until the full reality of that has settled upon you, and there is no need to rush it. Yet, knowing more about WHAT you are does not change WHO you are. The danger, I believe, is in allowing yourself to be told who you must be, for only you can know that." Amethyst laughs as well, and this time with honesty. Of course Zeus is real. Her smile isn't forced as she listens to Kent's kind words about her father, though there is still a sense of melancholy in it. The princess stretches out on the armchair, ungainly kicking her legs out and throwing her arms over the armrests. She blows a strand of hair out of her eyes. "That's good advice, doc," she says. "Honestly heartwarming" It's what Amethyst would expect out of a wise old man. It does make her feel better, even if she can't stop herself from teasing him about it. She tries to remember if she had his trading card. More importantly, she tries to remember any indicators that her mother recognized him or who he was. "So, what do we Lords of Order do? Do I start out writing magical speeding tickets?" Kent laughs quietly again at Amethyst's reaction. "I suppose it's not a surprising thing to say, is it? Yet, perhaps sometimes old wisdom still rings true. And, for all the phrase might be well-worn, I do believe firmly in staying true to oneself." And then comes the bigger question. Kent rises from his chair, stepping over to lean slightly against the mantle, gazing up at the mirror. He reaches up to trace his fingertips across the surface, which ripples like water to show, now, a complex hermetic diagram of the Universe across a starry backdrop. He speaks in a distant manner, as if conjuring up very old memories. "Long ago, the forces of Chaos and Order were in perfect balance. In time, the inevitability of entropy allowed that balance to slip, and Chaos--as is its nature--began to push against Order. Order resisted, and their conflict began. Now, at times this conflict has been cast as simply 'good' against 'evil,' but it is hardly so simple as that." The image in the mirror swirls, showing an image of the Tree of Life, from roots to branches. "The Balance is required for life to thrive. Chaos pushes life, while Order creates a framework for it to take meaningful form. Without Chaos, of course, there is stagnation. Without Order, life grows as wildly and destructively as a cancer." Turning back to face Amethyst, Nelson smiles again. "From my point of view, Chaos is more immediately dangerous to life. It tempts, instigates. Yet, like the fire that sustains life, it is also necessary, but Chaos is not suited to guiding or protecting, and it can be fickle and capricious. Thus, the Lords of Order must shepherd life, helping it to grow and to to evolve instead of simply erupting into an all-consuming bedlam." Looking down again, Kent sighs. "The world today shows what happens when Order becomes too complacent, too much a victim of its own methods. Chaos pushes along the old lines established by Order, and so Order, by the very systems once designed to support life, becomes a threat to that life. It is not an easy age you enter into, Princess." With a subtle change in tone, grandfatherly Kent Nelson is once again Doctor Fate. Or was he Nabu even now, in some way? How much does dying change a man? A thought strikes Amethyst with such force that she sits up straight. Her father--Pantagones--could live even as Lord Turquoise lies dead in his family mausoleum. She masks any further expression of surprise. Kent Nelson is trying to teach her something. The princess listens intently and without letting her mind wander to the implications of her realization. "And I bet Chaos would say that they're liberating life from the oppressive systems of Order," she says. A moment of hesitation, and then she decides against immediately asking about her father. "Are there any other people like this? Agents of Order or Chaos, I mean. Do they actually fight where we can see them, or is this an abstract kind of thing?" The question brings another of those gentle smiles from Kent, and he passes a hand across the mirror, returning it to a drifting view of the cosmos, before he returns to his chair and leans back, drawing a slow, contemplative breath. "The faces of the Lords change often enough, but you will know them when you meet them, I suspect. While we do at times enter into physical conflict--or even direct alliance, more rarely--most of the time it unfolds far more indirectly." He waves a hand vaguely, conjuring misty, indistinct figures in the air before him that press at each other, dividing or consolidating like a labyrinthine linkage of the wax from within a lava lamp. As these press and separate, he continues speaking. "We assert pressure here, constrain an action there, while they seek to stoke tensions, inspire action--the hope is that those lives we shepherd will flourish, striking a path between Order and Chaos into a better future." Amethyst seems content watching the hypnotic patterns of the mirror while Kent speaks on. Her purple eyes glitter, almost reflective. "You're saying I was recruited by the right team," she says. The princess crosses her arms, hugging them tight to her body. "I'm not sure you answered my question. What is expected from me? You said I'm not like the others. My father broke the rules and I'm unique. Does that mean anything? Do the other Lords already know about me? Do you guys at least do probation or community service?" Amethyst's persistent question draws a fuller laugh from Kent, who raises one hand in an almost weary "fending off" gesture. "A fair question, and yet a difficult one. You see, none of us have ever had the problem you now face. We have all known our duties since time immemorial. There are very few absolutes in what we do, and much comes from experience and judgment that I cannot simply explain to you." He lowers his hand, then raises it again to stroke his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps the best option might be for me to offer you what guidance I can as you embark on a journey of discovering your own path." Amethyst grins. The ominous, foreboding Doctor Fate that she remembers from her youth is hardly the present case. Even with all this talk of universal Order and Chaos, she feels comfortable. 'That's because it hasn't sunk in yet,' she thinks. "That's what I wanted to hear," Amethyst admits. "It sounds like this is really important, but, look. I've got a lot to worry about already." The princess frowns. "I suppose you do too, after what you've told me. Sorry." Raising a hand, Amethyst extends three fingers. "Alright. I've got three questions. Last ones, I promise." She lowers the first finger. "Is Pantagones still alive?" "Then we shall do our best to find your path with such aid as I can give," Kent says, smiling, but at the question about Amethyst's father, the old man's gaze turns distant, and he at first begins to shake his head, but then he stops, frowning, and purses his lips for a moment before responding. "In truth, I cannot say. He has passed out of all knowledge--but such beings as we have been known to do that before and yet return. So, let us say that he is, at present, lost to us--but he might one day returns." A very unsatisfying answer. Amethyst nods purposefully to show she understands, but forges onward. She lowers another finger. "I don't want to see my mom right now. Do you know any place I could stay? I left a bag of gold back in the hall, but I don't think I'll be able to sell it for very much." The princess is barely able to say "bag of gold" with a straight face. To this question, Kent gives another slightly more humor-filled laugh. He reaches into his breast pocket, withdrawing a wallet, and takes out several rather crisp hundred-dollar bills. "I would offer you a place in the Tower, but it tends to prove difficult for anyone but myself to endure. Thus, I will offer you this--a paltry sum between such as ourselves--to aid you in finding temporary accommodations. Beyond that, we will have to look into establishing you with a reliable source of income." Amethyst isn't sure what she was expecting, but a few bills from a classy wallet are not it. "Um, thanks." She is momentarily silent, derailed by the thought that several hundred dollars is now a paltry sum to her. Her, the girl who had to steal hair dye from grocery stores. "Yeah. Reliable source of income." The gravity of her last request brings her back. Princess Amethyst raises her chin, lowering the last finger and making a fist. "Can you tell me where to find John Constantine? I made a promise to rip his throat out." Kent is just sliding his wallet back into his coat pocket when Amethyst asks her final question. "Ah," he says, sighing deeply. "John Constantine. Well, let us suffice to say, that this shall be undoubtedly another rather long conversation...." Category:Log